


Practice

by Mareel



Series: Always [56]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Established Relationship, Gift Giving, M/M, Music, Post-Canon, Post-Mass Effect 3, Rehabilitation, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 13:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10413432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareel/pseuds/Mareel
Summary: Practice makes perfect.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place approximately 16 months after the end of the Reaper war, at their Vancouver home. 
> 
> Written for the Mass Effect Flash Fanwork prompt: Music

 

"Hey, Shepard!"

I don't have to look for him. The slow and deliberate sound of piano scales being practiced lead me to the library where we'd set up my mom's keyboard for John's piano studies.

"Kaidan! You're home early. Slow day for the Council?"

He's stretching and flexing his left hand, the one that had been damaged almost beyond repair when he fired the Crucible to end the Reaper war. That he has the use of it at all is a testament to the skill of the reconstructive surgeons, and his own stubborn focus on rehabilitating it. 

"Fairly slow day, yeah. One or two agenda items, but there wasn’t much debate about them. Mostly a formality, I guess.” 

Shepard’s wry smile reminds me that he knows all about the Council’s taste for formality. “Some things never change. You’re a better man than I am, Kaidan. Or at least a more patient one.”

“Well, Council is in recess for next two weeks, so I get to spend more time here with you. Can’t complain about that. Oh, I stopped by the apartment on the Citadel before coming home. Brought you something!"

John gets up from the bench and wraps his arms around me, pulling me close for a warm kiss. "Where is it?" 

He's always like a kid on Christmas about presents. It takes so little to make him grin, as long as he gets to unwrap it. 

"Well, this one doesn't really have a wrapping. It's a data file on my omni-tool. But I think you'll like it. How's your hand feeling? What I was hearing sounded good... a nice steady rhythm and even tones."

I reach for his left hand and stroke my fingertips across the pink uncalloused skin of palm and fingers. Before I release it, I press a kiss into his palm.

"Feels pretty good today. There were some exercises I was working on earlier that Elena said would be good for trying to extend my reach beyond an octave. Important for some chords, I guess. Hard to know when it's just practice exercises instead of real songs... what did she call them?"

"Etudes, maybe. She played a lot of them on the cello. I suppose there are ones for piano too.”

“Etudes, yeah, that’s it. It’s okay practicing those… but I like playing songs too. Something I can sing along with in my head.”

“Or out loud if you think no one will hear you?” 

His cheeks are turning a little red as he turns his head away. “Maybe. Sometimes. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Not a word. But seriously, it seems like you're doing well. You’re keeping at it longer than I ever did when Mom tried teaching me piano as a kid."

"Yeah. I can feel that my hand is more flexible now. So that's good. Maybe we can test out that new pistol on the practice range again. I should be able to handle the thermal clips with my left hand better than I could when we first tried some shooting practice."

That hadn’t gone well, and it left John both frustrated and more determined than ever to regain what he had lost. 

“I’m up for that anytime, John. I knew when you picked out that new Carnifex that it would take some practice to regain your speed and accuracy. But it’ll come back. You won’t give up till you’re as good a shot as ever.”

He laughs, flexing his hand again – this time molding it into a pistol grip rather than a piano chord. “Yeah, damn straight! Tell Vakarian I’m going to want a rematch. He’d better be ready.”

Sitting back down on the piano bench, John draws me down next to him. "So what's this data file you brought me?"

I pull up my omni-tool and transmit the file to the keyboard's data module. "Are voice commands and playback enabled?"

John shakes his head and adjusts a control panel. "No. But should be now."

"I got this from Glyph. I'd asked about it back when Mom first talked you into learning to play. You mentioned to her that Liara had played a song for you once, on the piano in the apartment. Something that you liked."

His smile is all the reward I ever need. 

"You got Glyph to record Liara's song for me? I've been trying to remember how it goes."

"Not just record it, but actually notate it for you so that you can learn it either from written music or by hearing it. Whatever works best for you."

"Elena wants me to try both ways, but isn't insisting on one mode or the other. Let's hear it."

Given the voice command, the keyboard recreates the music file Glyph had provided. It’s haunting… sort of makes me think of something you might hear on a really old world… maybe some place like Ilos. I don’t know... somewhere.

"That's it! That's Liara's song. Kaidan, this is great. I want to learn it! Did Glyph need to tell Liara that you received a copy? Not sure about his programming when it comes to things like that." 

"I don't know. I asked to keep my request a secret until you could surprise Liara by playing it for her. I'm not sure Glyph understood the concept of a surprise, but it was worth a shot."

John has closed his eyes, seeming to focus on the music. It's not a long piece, but has beautiful, shifting harmonies. When the last notes fade away, he stretches his hand again, trying to recreate the final chord. "That will give my hand a workout. But I'm going to practice until I learn it."

"Show Mom the music. Maybe she can write out some fingering suggestions for you to make it easier to play, especially for your left hand."

"I will. Then we'll invite Liara for dinner and surprise her."

"She'll like that." I offer him another kiss, followed by a hand in getting up from the bench. "How about dinner for us now? You can practice more later."

John's hands find their way around my waist and settle on my lower back, slipping beneath the tunic of my dress blues. His voice is husky. "Maybe I'll find something to unwrap after all... dinner can wait."

No argument from me. Some things don't need any practice. They're perfect already.

 


End file.
